


Not Dead Yet

by Mordhena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Sibling Incest, Triggers, Wincest - Freeform, anorexia referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short H/C kinda fluff, almost dark piece set after s11e17 Red Meat. Written to cheer up my friend Haggitha</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Dead Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haggitha](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Haggitha).



> _A/N: I'm putting a trigger warning on this, because there are tiny references in it to Anorexia and to Suicide (which was in the actual episode itself)._

Sam is laid up, at Dean's insistence on the sofa in what passes for the bunker's livingroom. He'd argued, because fuck it, you can't kill a Winchester that easy, right? But he's secretly glad to just lie here and count his breaths. In. Out. Repeat.

The panic of having his air cut off still lingers. Corbin had pinned him down, a knee in the very spot where the bullet fired by the werewolf Sam  _ saved him from _ had struck. Covered his mouth, pinched his nose and…

Sam closes his eyes, his heartbeat racking up, breath coming shorter at the memory. They said at the care center he hadn't died. His body went into shock; blood loss, hypoxia, and a string of medical jargon as long as Sam's over long legs. 

"Sure felt dead," he mutters.

"Looked it, too," Dean comes into the room. He's carrying a tray laden with sandwiches, coffee. "You had no pulse, dude. Convinced me. What was that some kind of Ghandi mojo?"

Sam manages a pretty good bitchface given the fact that he wants to laugh. He starts to push himself upright but Dean sets down the tray and puts a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Sutures, idjit!"

"Fuck off,  _ Bobby." _ Sam growls weakly. He lets Dean push him down against the pillow at his back. Fact is, he feels about as robust as a buck maggot just now. Much as he's trying not to let it show. Hell, he should be taking a five mile jog! After all, he killed the alpha and his bitch, stole their suv, drove back to the Impala, made his way into town and shot Corbin, all while bleeding out from his nicked liver and recovering from near suffocation. A few sutures shouldn't be able to hold him back!

Dean chuckles. "I get it. You're Sam fucking Winchester. Still won't hurt you to rest for five minutes."

"What about you?" Sam scowls. He picks up a mug of coffee from the tray beside the sofa. "You OD'd, man. Don't get me started on the subject of idjit moves. Death could be for keeps you know. For either one of us, this time."

"Yeah, well, somehow it wasn't. Looks like someone, or something wants us to hang around. Too bad for Billie." Dean offers him a sandwich and Sam shakes his head. "Hey, you lost enough blood to feed a nest of vamps. You need to build up again."

"I can't." Sam pushes the plate away. "Maybe in a little while, okay?"

Dean sets the plate down. "If you don't take a bite in the next hour, Imma force feed you, Ana.*"

Sam sighs wearily. He takes another gulp of coffee and then puts the cup aside. 

"Is Michelle okay?"

"As okay as anyone is who loses their partner to a monster. She said she had family to go to. I gave her Jodie's number."

"Good," Sam still feels like shit for killing the woman's husband before her eyes, but there hadn't been a lot of choice at the time. "M'tired," he murmurs.

"Yeah." Dean leans forward, brushes a calloused hand through Sam's hair. "Me too." A pause. "Shit, Sammy, you 'bout scared me to death."

"Didn't mean it," Sam mumbles. Heavy lids fall over his eyes, but he jacks them open. "Dean?"

Fingers tighten just a fraction in his hair and Sam bites his lip. He probably shouldn't but he pushes on. "Don't ever… please, don't ever do that again."

"Sam." The warning tone is clear in his brother's voice. Sam knows it is useless to argue with Dean about the lengths he'll go to protect, or to save him, but he can't even look sideways at how he would have felt had he come back and Dean didn't. He lifts one arm, ignoring the leaden, dead weight and puts a hand on the back of Dean's neck. 

"I can't...lose you," he whispers. 

"Then, you know why I had to."

"No. Fuck." Sam curses at the tears welling in his eyes.

"Shh." Dean leans closer, careful not to put pressure on Sam's healing wound. "Shh, Sammy." He presses his lips against Sam's mouth and they breathe each other for a long, long moment.

"Stay with me while I sleep," Sam whispers, and Dean eases himself down on the sofa. It's tight, but they make it work somehow. There's only one or two slight pangs from the wound as Dean manages to wrap himself around Sam and they settle at last. 

Sam tries to keep his tears a secret, but he knows Dean can feel the tiny, hesitant sobs.

Dean spreads a hand over Sam's heart and the steady beat of it lulls them both to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> _*Ana (Pro-Ana) is jargon for Anorexia or the promotion of anorexia._


End file.
